


aegri somnia

by zarahjoyce



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, idek, my favorite type of jon tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:54:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29001033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarahjoyce/pseuds/zarahjoyce
Summary: "Then don't," he says, trying to remember, solidify this moment in his memory: the feel of her, theheatof her, how full his heartisjust by basking in her presence. He shoves his hands under her furs, continues with, "Don't talk. Just-- just let me--""Jon,"she sighs, and he stills, cherishing the sound of his name on her lips. "Jon. I--""Sansa," he says, stealing whatever she wants to say by planting his mouth on hers."Sansa."--I love you.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 16
Kudos: 78
Collections: Jonsa New Year Drabbles





	aegri somnia

**Author's Note:**

> very late addition to the prompt _Day 1: Dreams_.

Seeing her smile lightens up the heavy burden he's been carrying for what had seemed like _weeks_ already.  
  
_It's worth it,_ he thinks, and not for the first time. Once he's close enough, he reaches for her hand - and draws her closer without preamble. This - _this_ \- is worth it. _  
  
_"Tell me about your day," she says, peppering the sides of his mouth with tiny kisses.   
  
"Do you really want to know?" he replies, savoring every small touch.   
  
She laughs, and something inside him shatters at the sound.  
  
"No," she murmurs, her lips trailing liquid fire down his neck. "No. I think we have better things to do than _talk."_  
  
He swallows the lump in his throat.  
  
If only he'd known, if only he'd realized-- if only he'd come home before it was too late, too late, _too late--_  
  
"Then don't," he says, trying to remember, solidify this moment in his memory: the feel of her, the _heat_ of her, how full his heart _is_ just by basking in her presence. He shoves his hands under her furs, continues with, "Don't talk. Just-- just let me--"  
  
_"Jon,"_ she sighs, and he stills, cherishing the sound of his name on her lips. "Jon. I--"  
  
"Sansa," he says, stealing whatever she wants to say by planting his mouth on hers. _"Sansa."  
  
\--I love you.  
  
_She pulls away, and gives him a sad, quiet sort of smile.  
  
"I know," she tells him, her thumb ghosting along his lower lip. "But... you should have told me earlier.  
  
It might have... changed things, for us."  
  


* * *

  
Moments later, Jon opens his eyes - and sees not Sansa's room in Winterfell, but his own quarters in the lands Beyond the Wall.  
  
"No," he cries, pushing himself off the bed. _"No!"  
  
_Beside him, someone sniffs.  
  
As if challenged, Jon grabs the old man by the neck and draws him up - until only his toes are touching the ground. "More time," he snarls. "I need more time with her. _Give_ me more time with her!"  
  
"M-My king," the old man replies, feebly clawing at Jon's hands. "I--"  
  
"Let him go."  
  
Jon glances at the side, finds Tormund glowering at the scene he'd come across. As if burned, Jon releases the old man, lets him crumple down - and pulls at his own mouth in frustration.   
  
"What the fuck is the matter with you?" Tormund bellows, pushing at Jon's shoulder to admonish him.  
  
"You wouldn't understand," he replies bitterly, sinking at the side of his bed.  
  
_But... you should have told me earlier.  
_  
Raking his hands through his hair, Jon thinks, not for the first time - he _should_ have.  
  
"If--" the old man starts to say, rising to his feet and reaching for his mortar and pestle and the herbs within to clutch them to his chest, "--if my king wants more time--"  
  
Both Tormund and Jon look at him.  
  
As if finding strength at the severity of the looks he's receiving, the old man continues, "T-There might be a way."  
  
Jon goes to his feet in an instant. "Tell me."  
  
For a moment, the old man straightens and _meets_ Jon's eyes - looking less frail, less _human.  
  
__"Only_ if you're prepared to pay the price."  
  
_It might have... changed things, for us._  
  
"Name it," he replies without thought, ignoring Tormund beside him. "Name it."  
  
The old man _smiles._


End file.
